


Life Reinvigorated

by metrolights



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: (references), Awkward Kissing, Getting Together, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7579957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metrolights/pseuds/metrolights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, how Fiore fell in love with DeBlanc in five steps  (no less, no more).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Reinvigorated

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning - had to invent some of Fiore's past. It's (probably) not canon. It doesn't make much of a difference to his character, though. :)

It's been such a long time since Fiore met DeBlanc that he isn't sure where their story began.

And Heaven is fluid, you know. Not like Hell, which is relatively static. Different levels and different Punishments. Screams of the Damned over here, raging fires over there. Lots of pain, lots of suffering.

(Fiore would hate to be there.)

Anyway.

So Heaven is fluid. Days blend into days which blend into months which blend into years and centuries. Time as flow-y as that and you've got yourself a graph with a ray (or maybe a line, really) that looks like a bowl of infinite spaghetti.

Fiore wouldn't mind having a bowl of infinite spaghetti right now, actually. With a lot of sauce, although that could get messy -

No, no, stay focused.

There we go.

Right.

Well, the only thing that's for sure is that Fiore met DeBlanc on the first day.

(The first day everything started mattering, that is.)

 

* * *

 

i.

“What's your name?”

Fiore looked down. He always looked down.

“Fiore. You?”

The short man with the funny facial hair looked up. He didn't always look up, but he had a feeling it would be happening more often now.

“DeBlanc.”

Fiore looked around at the room. It was metal-y and dark, and smelled like stale coffee. There was a can in the corner. It was red and round, and looked a bit beat-up.

“What am I doing here?”

“They didn't tell you?” DeBlanc questioned. He didn't sound surprised. “Yeah, 'course not. I hardly know much more than you, though, so don't whine for more information.”

“I don't whine,” Fiore shot back. He crossed his arms in an attempt to look frightening.

“'course not.” DeBlanc crossed his own arms, stepping closer to his new partner. “You want to know what happened to my old partner?”

“No.” Fiore paused. Frowned. “Yes.”

DeBlanc had an awfully smug face on; Fiore regretted his decision. “She cracked. Couldn't handle the responsibility. And the exposure, whew, it nearly killed her.”

“We reinvigorate,” Fiore reminded him.

“Yes, well, I meant it as a figure of speech!”

Fiore shifted his weight. Now he wore the smug face. “Go on.”

“She couldn't stand being near It. It's too volatile, and sometimes you can hear It whisper. It tells you everything you think you want and how to get it. Just…” DeBlanc made a popping sound with his mouth. Fiore stared at that. “...pop open Its cell.”

“Has anyone ever done it?” Fiore asked, a little nervous now.

“No, because that's crazy. It would destroy everything.” DeBlanc said that very matter-of-fact-ly. “You remember the rumors from a year back? About the,” his voice lowered, but he couldn't keep the disgust out if it, “traitors.”

Fiore nodded quickly.

DeBlanc pointed a finger at the coffee tin in the back, and Fiore could've sworn it rattled. (He swallowed, hard.) “That's the Hellish product.”

“Oh,” said Fiore in a small voice.

Suddenly, he was fairly sure that this was a mistake.

And then he remembered that God didn't make mistakes.

So he was here for a reason, and was apparently here to stay. (The dank room was hardly a comfort in this revelation.)

Awful, awful, awful.

Fiore could feel a headache coming on.

“Hey, it's not so bad,” DeBlanc said. He sounded a little sorry. “The thing in there is just a baby, so It can't do too much harm. Genesis likes it in there, anyhow. We just sing It a lullaby every once in awhile, and It goes right back to sleep.”

“Ok,” said Fiore, voice still small.

And there was not much else to say.

Fiore took one of the two chairs facing the can, and DeBlanc took the other, and that's how Fiore's life reinvigorated.

 

* * *

 

ii.

Angels don't really need to eat or sleep, but sometimes Fiore feels very, very tired. And sometimes very hungry, too, but that day he was just feeling tired.

They sat in the chairs - hard fold-ups, nothing fancy - for a long time. Fiore couldn't tell you how long, but it was a long time. Years, maybe. But Genesis was still a baby, and It still cried a lot.

That was the only noise Fiore had heard for ages. He once tried to engage DeBlanc in some socialising, but it didn't work out.

Today, though, Fiore was very tired and he needed a nap. Maybe just a half hour. If only he could ask DeBlanc…

“ _Psst_.”

DeBlanc continued to gaze mindlessly ahead.

“ _Psst_ , DeBlanc.”

Nope. Registered absolutely nothing.

“DeBlanc?”

He was like a statue, unmoving and unchanging. Gazing blindly ahead into the dark.

“DeBlanc!”

It was amazing how much DeBlanc could not do.

Fiore reached out to tap DeBlanc on the shoulder, fully expecting no response, except that -

“You shocked me!” Fiore cried, shaking the awful electricity from his hand.

DeBlanc blinked at him, surprise showing in his eyes. “I didn't feel anything!”

“Yes, you did!” Fiore accused, this weird fuzzy feeling raising a flush in his cheeks and a tingle down his spine.

He suddenly felt very awkward and embarrassed.

DeBlanc scrutinised him for a second. Then he seemed to shrug it off. “So, what did you want?”

“Um.” Fiore did not feel very sleepy anymore. But he had to come up with something. And his stomach did feel a bit peculiar. “Do we get food?”

Smart, smart.

DeBlanc still seemed suspicious, but at least Fiore's request was reasonable. “Yeah, sure. I'll call the Outside for some.”

“Thanks,” said Fiore.

“Any time.”

 

* * *

 

iii.

Fiore realized he was falling a little in love with DeBlanc just a tad after the shocking incident.

It occurred to him when he realized that it wasn't a shock at all.

Then The Thought faded away a bit.

(They went through the normal routine, staring into shadows and meditating through the cries. Sometimes praying for a bit, but that didn't really work since they were already in Heaven.)

Then The Thought came back again when DeBlanc started asking questions.

“What did you do before this?”

Fiore was taken aback. These were their first exchanged words in… some… time. “I was a soldier in the Angel Army.”

“Were you pretty good?”

That was a dumb question. If Fiore weren't good, he wouldn't be in the metal room with a coffee tin holding the most dangerous being ever created. (God didn't count since he wasn't created but simply came to be.)

“One of the best,” Fiore replied. He tried not to brag, he really did, but he had been very good.

“Do you miss it?”

Fiore thought about that. Being in the Angel Army meant that you saw a lot of death. They all reinvigorated, but they still died. Dying was exhausting after a while. You get sick of returning, sometimes, and maybe wish you were a dumb human.

At least you wouldn't have to wake up every time you closed your eyes and planned to sleep.

“No. Not really.”

DeBlanc nodded like that was the correct answer. “Do you miss anything?”

Fiore didn't have to think about that one. “I've got a lot of comic books at home,” he said shyly.

“That's very good,” DeBlanc replied. He smiled.

They sat together in the quiet for a moment. Genesis had relented in Its screaming, though Fiore didn't expect that to last long. Still, it was nice to have some peace for a change.

Then Fiore's own smile faded. “Will I see them again? My comics?”

DeBlanc hesitated. “Fiore. My old partner left.”

“That's the only way out?”

DeBlanc nodded.

Fiore squinted at him. “Would I ever see you again?”

“I've been down here a very, very long time,” DeBlanc answered.

He sounded tired. And old. But he was looking at Fiore in a way that no one had really looked at him before.

(The other angels, they called him a hero for what he did in the Angel Army. They loved the idea of him as a championing hero - but heroes saved people, and Fiore had tried to save people but sometimes it felt like he wasn't.

It was strange and twisted and made no sense.

He like fighting, but not enough to do it for so long without purpose. Demons just kept reinvigorating. And angels, too. And they would fight day and night, and the border would be equal but only if they kept fighting.

So, no, Fiore was certain that he was not a hero. He couldn't be that. Not him.)

DeBlanc was looking at him and he was looking at Fiore.

Fiore, who he's only talked to once or twice in (possibly) years.

And he was looking at him with hope.

Fiore nodded slowly.

DeBlanc cracked another smile.

Fiore didn't want to leave anymore.

 

* * *

 

iv.

Fiore didn't know much about romance and love, but DeBlanc was acting quite strangely recently.

Instead of staring at the coffee tin, sometimes Fiore caught DeBlanc staring at him.

And even stranger was that sometimes they would lock eyes and DeBlanc would blush.

DeBlanc! Calm, cool, collected DeBlanc, _blushing_!

And even stranger was that sometimes (always) Fiore blushed, too.

Fiore shook his head, running a hand through his short hair. Every day he spent in the metal-y room made less and less sense.

“Fiore? You okay?”

Fiore managed, “Yeah, I'm fine.” The lie tasted guilty and bitter on his tongue, and he knew DeBlanc could sense it.

And, of course, DeBlanc spoke on it. “Don't lie; that’s bad. What's wrong, Fiore?”

How could he tell him the truth?

That sometimes he thought about him when he wasn't supposed to be, when his brain wandered around and decided that DeBlanc was the best place to settle. That he didn't dream of the Heaven outside anymore, only the bit of Heaven their room had to offer, but only if DeBlanc was in it.

That he wasn't sure if DeBlanc felt the same way. That he wasn't sure what he would do if DeBlanc didn't.

Or maybe he was going insane after being locked in the room for so long. Maybe he was imagining things and feelings where there shouldn't have been any to start with.

Genesis was wailing in the back, but Its voice drowned out.

All Fiore could see was DeBlanc leaning closer and closer, nearly tumbling out of his fold-up chair. But he was still getting closer, and Fiore realized suddenly - in a panic! - that he should be leaning closer, too.

DeBlanc’s eyes fluttered shut - which was a pity because he had the most amazing and deep eyes Fiore had ever seen.

But Fiore was smart, and he knew that bit was a cue:

He closed his eyes, too, bracing himself for the sweet, sweet impact he both dreaded and craved.

So maybe they were both leaning just too slowly, so maybe DeBlanc kind of grabbed the back of Fiore's neck and they collided.

It was the most beautiful, warm thing. And it lasted for a good time.

Fiore never knew lips could taste so _good_.

 

* * *

 

v.

It was good, for awhile.

Fiore and DeBlanc would talk more, now. About all sorts of things, like comics and the war. And their friends. They’d lived (if you could call it that?) on different sides of Heaven, so they didn't have much in common.

Which was really excellent, because then they could talk for ages.

And sometimes kiss for ages, too.

(Which was really, really good.)

Of course, that all had to mess up.

One minute was all it took.

Fiore and DeBlanc had been tired. They both had been tired for months - years - but they had to stay in the room and they had to keep Genesis.

And they were tired and they fell asleep, and maybe the tin had been loose for weeks, but when they awoke It was gone.

Fiore looked down at DeBlanc, then down at the popped tin.

DeBlanc looked up at Fiore, then down at the popped tin.

“We're going on an illegal field trip, my dear,” DeBlanc told him.

He called him that sometimes. It made Fiore feel that electric, fizzy thing he had the first time he'd touched DeBlanc.

“Where to?” Fiore said.

DeBlanc walked over to the ajar door, opening it even wider.

The hall was dark, illuminated only by flickering yellow lights. A set of stairs ran up on DeBlanc's left.

Funny. Fiore had forgotten how he'd gotten down to the room. Well, everything before the room was blurry, anyway.

Now, all there was was DeBlanc (and Genesis, but It was horrible and didn't count). And Fiore was just fine with that.

“Earth, my dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is appreciated! First fic for this fandom, but I _had_ to type it up after this night's episode. Please be kind :)
> 
> say hi to me on [tumblr](http://itemsoflittleuse.tumblr.com)!


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